The banging doesn’t stop. Louder, harder, and everyone is looking at each other in worry.
“I’m coming, damn!” Rosalie yells at the door.
My head starts to spin. By instinct alone, I know exactly who it is.
“Don’t open it!”
It’s too late. Whether she couldn’t hear my warning or just didn’t register what I was saying in time, Rosie pulls the door open and my father comes storming in.
He’s fuming. I swear there’s steam rolling off the tips of his graying hair, but it’s probably my imagination. Hopefully.
“I fucking knew it.” He swears, taking a menacing sweep across the space. His eyes stop on us. Me, sitting casually inone seat, with Grant having moved next to me to talk about life. Ironically, I was just telling him about the text exchange with Dad before he showed up. It’s a sick joke.
“Locke.” My name isn’t yelled, but my father’s tone is strong enough to strike a chord. His voice echoes around the room and in my mind, torturing me while he stomps across the apartment to my side. “I told your ass I’d find you. You’re not even smart enough to have your sister turn off her location. This is what you have the fucking nerve to blow me off for? A dinner with your stupid little friends and siblings in the apartment I’m paying for?”
I must be pale. Lighter than usual. I feel the blood rush out of my body. As far as I know, my father doesn’t have any knowledge of who Derek is. This is a Keller McCarthy first impression, but still, he doesn’t hold back. Throws around insults and swear words like he doesn’t care that someone is going to have a negative opinion on our family.
This level of anger is one I didn’t know was capable from him.
Slowly, shaking, I push out of my chair. Swallow the large lump in my throat and fix my glasses before saying, “Don’t call them stupid.”
He scoffs. Throws his hands in his hair and rolls his eyes, and I remind myself how to stand. Spine straight.
From here, at my tallest height, he looks small again. Less intimidating even when he yells through gritted teeth and points to the door.
“We’re leaving. Now. I’m done with your bullshit. You’re never going to see these people again.”
Shoulders back. Keeping myself as stone-willed as I can. I’m still terrified, still wondering what punishment he’ll try to inflict on me once this is over, but I’m angrier than I am scared. These people have become my family, and I won’t have him insulting them.
I think about the times he looked down on people in his office, at home; At me. I channel the anger from those days while forcing my voice to steady.
“Watch your mouth when you’re talking about them.”
I see it with my own two eyes. My father, backing away. It’s probably more from shock than anything else, but to egg myself on, I’ll say he’s the one becoming scared.
Dad laughs. Devoid of humor, and full of disbelief, he shakes his head and laughs in my face. “You are such a waste of a son.”
“Fuck you.”
Chin straight. My jaw tightens to the point of pain. After everything I’ve done, tirelessly, selflessly in my life, this is the last insult I’ll let him throw at me. Never in my life was I a bad son. This is my last straw.
“You’re not a father. Barely a man. You’re a monster willing to sell out anything and anyone for that damn company you stick your legacy to, and I’m done with it.” He opens his mouth, and it feels good to be the one cutting him off for once. “Fuck you. I’m done being your son. VK can run itself into the ground for all I care. I won’t have any part of it.”
My father’s throat bobs. His foot taps. The mention of his company is what causes his resolve to slip. It’s pathetic.
“We’re going back to the office-”
“I’m not doing shit for you ever again. Do you understand me? I don’t want any part in being your son anymore. I don’t want the company, the responsibility, and least of all, your money.”
With shaking hands, I take my wallet from my back pocket. The cards attached to my father’s name get pulled out, and still running on the adrenaline of changing my life now,for good, I throw them at his feet.
“There. We’re done. Now get the fuck out.”
When the metal hits the floor, slipping off his dress shoes and onto the hardwood, it’s like his spirit goes with it. His shoulders fall. His eyelids droop.
I haven’t needed my father’s money for a long time. I’ve wondered before, if he might’ve found out about the millions I have stored away. It wouldn’t be impossible for him; with how much power and connections he has. By some sick chance, maybe he always knew it wasn’t the money keeping me to him. There’s a possibility he thought his intimidation tactics and emotional abuse would hold at his side forever.
His face morphs into panic. Simultaneously, we realize I’m truly, completely done with my father.
